Let her snoring
In a mysterious kingdom called Redwood — a place where bees buzzed louder than usual, where sleeping volcanoes carefully held themselves back so they wouldn’t accidentally erupt and frighten the nearby villagers, and where people passed down gossip and funny stories like precious family heirlooms — far beyond distant lands and behind dozens of imaginary soundproof walls, inside a tower that was not the tallest, yet somehow the most intimidating, a beautiful girl was sleeping.
She was the daughter of King Edwood II the Incomparable. And her name was Sabrina. Legends whispered about her.
People spoke in hushed voices when her name was mentioned. They said like:
— She was the most beautiful girl in the entire world — on Earth, on the Moon, and in every beauty contest that had ever existed or ever would.
— Her hair flowed like gentle streams of moonlight, soft and glowing even in darkness.
— Her skin looked like snow-white cream at dawn. Some claimed she once competed with Snow White herself over who was fairer and rosier — until Sabrina fainted in the middle of the contest.
— And her voice…
At that point, people usually fell silent. Because almost no one had ever heard her voice. Not once. Not ever. No matter how much they wanted to.
But her snoring… Oh. Her snoring was famous. Her snoring was legendary. Everyone had heard it.
It reached the very edges of the kingdom. When it echoed through the air, birds immediately changed their flight routes, refusing to cross its invisible sound barrier. Cows stopped producing milk out of sheer shock. Knights fell from their horses after suddenly losing all sense of balance.
Even a wise man from a neighboring kingdom, famous for his iron calm and unshakable patience, once announced solemnly:
“If this snoring continues for even one more minute — or even a fraction of a minute — I will compose a ballad about the futility of existence and retreat to a monastery for the rest of my life.”
And yet, despite everything…Princes never stopped coming. They crossed hundreds of trials. They fought fire-breathing dragons. They passed through forests filled with dangerous bandits, poisonous spiders, and cruel magical traps. They endured hunger, cold, exhaustion, fear - all for one purpose to reach her.
And when they finally stood before the door to her chambers When they raised their trembling hands…When they gathered their courage…They froze.
Because from behind the door came:
“Hrrrnnngh!!!”
A sound so powerful, so deafening, so overwhelming that even the most musical ears stopped functioning properly.
“My eardrums! Protect my eardrums! Guards! I demand protection and financial compensation for my suffering!” — cried one sensitive young man named Harem, jumping in place. He had come to prove his bravery — though in reality, it was mostly vanity and selfishness.
“This is impossible! Why are we even here, my friends?” —groaned another admirer, the elegant Antoine, clenching his fists and grinding his teeth.
“And who invented this ‘open-the-bedroom-door’ test? How am I supposed to cover my ears and open the door at the same time?” — complained Pierre desperately.
Some left in terror. Some in shock. Some permanently lost all desire to ever kiss anyone again.
They were never the same. Almost none returned unchanged.
No one told stories. No one shared details. No one admitted the truth.
Because in this world, confessing that you were frightened by a girl’s snoring was deeply, deeply embarrassing.
Meanwhile, inside the tower, behind shutters that trembled with every breath, slept the girl herself. Sabrina. Yeah, that's a perfectly ordinary name.
She slept the way she knew how — loudly, confidently, as if the entire world had been created just to listen to her breathing with pride, with dignity and with absolute dedication.
Every exhale made the curtains sway like waves. Every inhale knocked years of dust from the windowsill. Usually, that made her sneeze and wake up. She would stay awake for a couple of hours. Stretch. Blink. Wonder vaguely why everything felt so quiet. Then she would fall asleep again. And snore again.
Sometimes, something like a melody broke through the noise — as if someone were hitting heavy metal pipes in underground tunnels with a wooden log. It sounded like either the instrument was cursed. Or the musician — a young beauty — had seriously overdone it. And now men feared not dragons, but simple humiliation.
And so it went on for years. Until one day, something changed. The snoring did not become quieter. No. It became… pleasant.
As if it had gained meaning. Rhythm and Music. A spark. As if love and happiness had somehow slipped into it.
That morning, an old herbalist woman — who knew every blade of grass, every stone, every rumor, and almost every secret in Redwood — peeked through her curtained window and whispered to herself:
“She’s waking up. Here we go again.”
She took out her mortar, dried rose petals, mint, rosemary, and chamomile brew, and began to mix.Not everyone knew this, but when the old woman mixed her herbs, it meant only one thing: Either a potion would be born, or trouble. Sometimes both.
At the foot of the tower, beside the lake where the witch’s house stood, a volcano slept, reflected in the mirror-like water. It knew. Something was coming. Not only would the princess awaken. So would her gift. But for now…
Let her snore.
The kingdom was used to it.
— About Mommy’s Prince —
On the other side of the kingdom lived a mother and her beloved son. She adored him. Cherished him. Worshipped him. Only one person loved him more than she did. Himself.
“You are so brave, so invincible, so heroic! - she told Devon lovingly. - You’re clever and absolutely wonderful, my little boy.”
Every compliment sent shivers down his spine. If Mom said it, it must be true. Especially at the age of thirty.
“You are unique, my son. You have nothing to fear. And who in this kingdom could possibly be better than you?”
He nodded uncertainly and shrugged. He knew the correct answer. But his self-esteem insisted that yes — he really was the best. And who, if not him, should become the prince of the sleeping beauty?
They would be the perfect couple. Next to him, she would look like a delicate flower. He, on the other hand, was a narcissist and a brute. With the fitting nickname:
“The Proud Peacock”.
Girls adored him. But intelligence was not his strongest feature.
So let’s think together:
"Does he really have a chance?"
